Helen Goes for Mr. Sunday

Who is Mr. Sunday?: Part 10

Helen walked down the long and narrow corridor of the Mumbai High Court taking short, apprehensive steps. She carried a file. Several advocates stood in the corridor in their long flowing black gowns, speaking animatedly to their clients. There was a series of rooms on the right side of the corridor with electronic display boards on the top.

A young lady advocate talked on the phone.

"Excuse me," said Helen. The young lady ignored her and walked away.

Helen paused for a while, looking disoriented.

A short and bald man dressed in a white uniform walked in her direction.

"Excuse me, where can I meet an advocate?"

'Walk straight down this corridor, go to the room at the end of the corridor room no. 18. That's the bar room, and there you will find a lot of advocates."

Helen walked along finely sculptured walls and approached a room, which had a board outside that said "Museum".

Helen appeared nonplussed.

"Where's the bar room?" Helen asked the guard posted outside the room. He pointed to the adjacent room.

Helen entered the room. The room was a sea of white shirts sitting around tables arranged end to end. There was fervent activity all around. In the corner were two big chairs, on one of which a fat gentleman was fast asleep, snoring. There was a counter on the right hand side. She approached the man behind the counter.

"Is this the bar room?" asked Helen.

The man did not respond.

She took a good look around the room. After she was done surveying everyone sitting in the room, her face bore an expression of disappointment.

She reluctantly approached an elderly advocate who sat reading some papers with intense concentration. There were a number of pens littered all around the table. He was fervently taking down notes on a yellow note pad.

"Excuse me," said Helen.

The elderly advocate did not look up and continued with his exercise.

"Excuse me," Helen repeated.

The advocate looked at Helen with such contempt that Helen took a quick step back.

'What do you want?'

"I need your advice on a matter"

"I don't give advice."

Helen appeared irritated.

"What do you mean?" asked Helen.

"Who has referred you to me?" he asked curtly.

"No one," Helen said.

"Then I am sorry, I can't help you. I don't take up clients without a reference," the advocate said, going back to his exercise of going through the papers.

Helen stood for a moment looking unbelievably at the gentleman. Then she turned around, and the file she was carrying slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.  Someone helped her pick up the papers.

Helen looked up. It was a woman about her age, undoubtedly a Westerner. Helen sighed.

"Where on earth were you?!" said Helen.

"Me?!" said the woman, trying to make sure she was the one who had just been spoken to.

"Yes," said Helen getting up on her feet. The woman surveyed her with curious eyes.